On board the Spearhead

“Shiloh, quit poking her.”

“I’m just checking if she’s alive.”

“Let her rest!”

My eyes slowly open to the sight of Shiloh and Jasper looking down at me, with a high-rise, arched ceiling made of steel in the background. I jerk up, but a throbbing pain in my head stops me, causing me to plop back down onto a pillow.

“Shiloh, Jasper… You’re both okay. That’s a relief…” I say groggily. How long have I been out?

Gazing around, there’s two other cot beds in the room, along with a simple table and chairs in the middle. Even though there’s no windows, it’s almost overwhelmingly radiant in here. Every corner and edge is lined with a white light. It’s also very “cubic,” the room’s shape. The walls are delicately curved inward with a hexagonal-like outline. I don’t know if I love it, hate it, or neither, but I suppose now isn’t the time to be critiquing architecture.

“Where are we?”

“The afterlife. Didn’t expect it to look like this, huh?” Shiloh teases.

I groan, my headache persisting. “Come on, be serious—” Then, in a flash, I recall the last thing I saw before waking up in this place – Ezri holding me at gunpoint while standing in the road. “Ezri!” I exclaim, going to sit up again, but there comes the pain.

“Hey, take it easy,” Jasper says, placing a hand on my arm. “Yeah, though… Don’t freak out, but she caught us. We’re on the ship.”

On the ship? Are you kidding me?

My hands grip onto the thin blanket draped over my body. “Why did she take you guys too?” I ask, my face clenching. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Who cares? I don’t wanna be dead!” says Shiloh.

“She probably did all types of things, right? Did she threaten you, torture you?”

Seeming conflicted, they look at each other, then back at me.

Jasper’s the first to speak. “Actually, they’ve been pretty… Normal. It’s like they see us as guests.”

I scoff and shake my head. I don’t buy that for a second, it’s probably just some ruse to make us let our guard down. Not happening with me, Ezri. You’ll have to try harder.

“They even gave us muffins. Want one?” Shiloh asks.

“No, and you shouldn’t be eating any either! It could be poison!”

“In that case, I’m going to be in biiig trouble. Ate five of them, kinda want a sixth.”

I should’ve known Shiloh was fine – an impossible person in an impossible scenario. Of course she’d manage to pull through.

A few beeps are heard, then the door slides open. There stands a figure dressed in the typical Liberation attire I’ve seen so far – black, sleek armor plates, most heavily covering the chest and shoulders, placed over leather of the same shade, tightly hugging the body. On this one, a helmet with a gray-tinted face shield conceals their features from our view.

“Oh, look who’s finally awake!” the soldier says in a muffled voice, though it’s undeniably feminine. She walks over to the side of my cot. “We’ve been waiting a long time for you, Calla.”

“Why?” I ask, hardly withstanding the resentment bubbling inside. She’s completely irrespective of the fact we’re being held hostage, sounding way too chirpy for my liking, and showing not a single shred of remorse for all the innocent lives she helped take.

“Can’t tell you that, I’m afraid. Not yet, at least,” she steps back towards the door while gesturing for us to follow with her hand. “This way, newbies. You’re not going to be cooped up in this room forever.”

The three of us silently communicate with each other through questioning glances. I have a hunch Shiloh is still trying to say something about a muffin. Being on the ship, we’re held at a total disadvantage, with no room for disobedience or cheap tricks. No use in ignoring the woman’s orders. They slowly help me onto my feet, whatever Ezri did really messed me up somehow, then we allow her to lead us out into the corridor.

The hall’s structure is pretty much identical to the room, except it contains two large windows on the opposite sides of the mid-section. Outside is a vast night sky with a number of stars that can’t be counted, and hundreds of feet below us, is the Capital – a third of it in shambles, in contrast to the glow of the areas still intact. Surprised they didn’t go all-out and wipe out the whole place, or maybe, that’s still to come.

“I’m Petra, by the way. Captain of this crew,” she says with that same upbeat attitude as we approach the exit of the corridor. I don’t remember asking, but I’ll definitely tell the task force to be on the lookout for a “Petra” in the records, assuming I can make it out of this alive anyway.

The door slides open again, bringing us into what is supposedly the central room of the ship. “Welcome aboard the Spearhead,” Petra says, a touch of pride in her voice. “Consider yourselves temporary members.”

Her words are like a jab to the gut. I’d rather be killed than be forced into recruitment. Never in a million years.

“Umm, yeah- no thank you,” Shiloh says with a slight edge, holding up her hands. “Becoming a terrorist wasn’t really on the bucket list, you know?”

“Hmm…” Petra acknowledges the other soldiers greeting her with a nod. “I’d prefer antiheroes, but I guess we would be terrorists in your eyes, huh?”

How delusional.

“Yeah, blowing up the Capital just really screamed out ‘terrorist’ to me, but that’s probably only my opinion,” she replies with a snarky grin.

We stop at the doorway of another chamber. There’s more of their uniforms inside, hanging on racks. Weapons are secured behind a glass container, with a code needed to open it. I remember when my only memory of seeing weapons in-person was in museums, until these people came and ruined that.

“Not to scare any of you, but we’re expecting something to go down – pretty shortly, too. It’s best if you wear a suit for protection, or else—”

“You’re irritating,” I cut her off sharply. “Why are you talking to us so casually, like we’re buddies? And calling us ‘members?’ You have us here as prisoners, at least act like it.”

“You shouldn’t be poking the bear,” Jasper whispers into my ear. “We’re on their ship, with no way out, we shouldn’t upset them.”

However, Petra just shrugs her shoulders, even chuckles. People here really seem to love laughing in the most inappropriate situations. “Gee, I’m sorry. Thought I was being a good host,” she points to a short hall across from the storage, “Anyway, down there are the bathrooms, where you can change.”

Reluctantly, we each fetch a suit from the storage, then separate to swap into them. I’ve never felt more uncomfortable in my own skin, seeing this disgusting outfit and everything it represents on me. It’s like it solidifies the idea we’re “one of them,” which is so ludicrous that I still can’t believe she suggested it. What’s even the point of having us on their side? Was this really Ezri’s intention for me?

When I step outside the bathroom, despite feeling ashamed of anyone seeing me like this, Petra is waiting for me, leaning against the wall.

“See, was that so hard? Looks great on you, too!”

…

“Okay, okay, no need to glare at me like that,” Petra pushes herself off the wall, then walks along. “Come with me, you’ll have to be apart from your friends for a bit.”

With both urgency and protectiveness, I ask quickly, “Why? What are you going to do with them?”

“Nothing, relax. The Admiral wants a word with you. Alone.”

An admiral? Great, what other whack job am I going to have the pleasure of meeting?

I follow Petra to the Spearhead’s cockpit, my arms crossed and my face as sour as ever. She leaves me inside, the door closing behind me, and I think she’s locked it. The cockpit is still and quiet, and if it weren’t for me seeing a person’s boots underneath the main chair, I’d think I was alone.

Not wanting to be in here for any longer than necessary, I don’t wait for the admiral to address me first. “Well? I’m here,” I announce after taking a few steps forward.

The chair moves, and moonlight reflects against strands of white hair. For a moment, my heart stops. Time itself freezes as awareness takes over me, and it only returns once she turns to me fully.

“Hello, blondie,” Ezri says calmly.